


A Double Heart for Your Single One

by Ravenclawsome



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 10:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3352661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenclawsome/pseuds/Ravenclawsome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentines Day in the Duke/Hobbes household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Double Heart for Your Single One

“Mum?”

Beatrice looked up from her laptop to see Imogen standing in front of her, notebook in hand. 

“Hey,” Beatrice smiled. “How was school?”

“Fine.” 

“And how was football practice?”

“Also fine,” Imogen said, flopping down on the couch and kicking her feet up onto the coffee table. “Same as usual. Cody made fun of my voice again.”

Beatrice scowled. It wasn’t her daughter’s fault that she had learned to speak from a New Zealander and an English guy who couldn’t keep the Scotland out of his voice. And anyway, her accent wasn’t really _that_ bizarre, she just rolled her ‘R’s a little more than usual. Bea thought it was adorable.

“That was rude of him,” Beatrice said. “Go kick his butt.”

“Right now?”

“Sure, you want me to drive you?”

Imogen laughed.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I actually need your help with some homework.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Imogen opened her notebook and pulled a pencil from somewhere in her bushy, dark hair. “We’re doing Valentine’s day projects, and I’m supposed to interview about how you and dad met.”

“Oh wow,” Beatrice smirked. “Did you ask him about it?” 

She knew some couples had elaborate ways to tell their “how we met” story, but she had never been very good at it. After they started dating, people had wanted Beatrice to tell the story all the time, but back then her gut response was still ‘What? Benedick? Nah, he’s a complete loser.” Because of that, her story had always been mumbly and short, and not very interesting. 

But Benedick? He _lived_ for the ‘how we met’ story.

“Dad’s busy,” Imogen said. “I thought you probably knew the story just as well as he did.”

“You know, for an eleven year old, you’ve got a lot of sass.” Beatrice said. Imogen beamed. 

“I do?”

She did. Just last week she’d gotten in trouble at school for telling one of the kids who made fun of her accent, “You’ve got a stupid face, but I don’t bother you about it!” Her teacher had overheard, and told Imogen he was going to arrange a meeting with her parents to let them know “how rude she had been in class.” 

The teacher’s fatal mistake had been asking both Beatrice and Benedick to meet with him. Bea had never seen a teacher go from confident, to flustered, to embarrassed so quickly in her life. 

Needless to say, Ginny didn’t get in trouble. 

“Okay,” Beatrice said, setting her computer on the coffee table and going over to sit on the couch next to her daughter. “You have some interview questions for me?”

“Uh huh.”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay,” Imogen adjusted her notebook and positioned her pencil at the top of the page. “What’s your name?”

“Beatrice Duke.”

“And dad’s name?”

“Benedick Hobbes.”

“That’s so weird,” Imogen made a face. “It’s weird that you have real names.”

“Well, your name’s weird too.” Beatrice teased.

“Mum, you gave me my name.”

“I suppose that’s true. Next question?”

“Right,” Imogen scribbled in her notebook. “Okay, how did you and dad meet?”

“Well,” Beatrice hesitated. It was hard to know how much to tell her. “You remember Pedro?”

“Like, ‘Pedro and Balthazar’? That Pedro?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Beatrice said. “Your dad and I were both friends of his, and he introduced us at a football game.”

“Huh.” Imogen looked a little disappointed. “Okay, well the next question—“

“WHAT?” Benedick’s voice erupted from the kitchen, and he burst into the living room with James clinging to his shoulders like a monkey. “Our first-born child finally asks you how we met, and you say _at a football game?_ ”

“What are you two doing?” Beatrice asked, her eyes moving from the spoon in James’ hand to the spaghetti sauce splattered over the both of them. 

“Cooking!” James said excitedly, waving his spoon in the air and flicking bits of sauce around the room.

“Don’t change the subject!” Benedick insisted. “ _At a football game._ That’s like if Wesley and Buttercup went around telling people they met _on a farm_. 

“They did meet on a farm!” Beatrice argued, standing up and plucking the spoon from James’ hand before he could spread any more of their dinner across the living room. 

“Ginny, don’t listen to your mum,” Benedick said. “Your parents have the most amazing love story that’s ever been told. It rivals the stories of Aragorn and Arwen, Leia and Han, Romeo and Juliet…”

“Literally every marriage where both people don’t die could rival Romeo and Juliet,” Beatrice retorted.

“Work with me, love.”

“Mum,” James whined. “Mum, spoon!” 

“No, darling, you’re painting the walls with spaghetti sauce.”

“Spoooooooon!”

“How about this,” Beatrice said. “You two go clean up, I’ll finish cooking, and then you can tell the magical tale of our marriage during dinner. That work for everyone?”

“As long as I get to tell our story with all the drama and excitement it deserves,” Benedick said. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Ben.”

Benedick smiled and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, but Beatrice held him off. 

“Do you realize how much sauce is on your face right now?” She asked, bemusedly.

“Quite a lot, I think.” Ben smirked, and Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Come on, if it’s on your face as well I’ll look less ridiculous.”

“No, I don’t think anything could make you look less ridiculous.”

“You’ve got me there.” Benedick grinned broadly, and Beatrice couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him anyway.

“Ewwww,” Imogen squeaked. “James, run away!”

“AAAAHHHHH!” James yelled, dropping from Ben’s shoulders and bolting from the room with his sister.

“Quick, Ben, get him before he touches anything with his spaghetti hands!” Beatrice giggled.

“I’M GOING TO TOUCH EVERYTHING!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!


End file.
